Broken Minds and Broken Hearts
by Ardenna Ouvrard
Summary: POST HOGWARTS. A few years after the war, Harry and Ron are recouping pleasantly, living the normal lives they've always wanted. Hermione, however, is still injured in more ways than one. Harry does what he can, trying to keep his own spirit intact.
1. Harry's New House Guest

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

With the imminent release of 'Deathly Hallows' less than two weeks away, I thought that I should publish this story, which I wrote before I started high school, so whatever happens in the 7th installment, I can smile and say, "Well I had no idea!" and keep writing it without reservations. It's been tweaked. Hope you enjoy!

**PS-- REVIEWS ARE MY LIFE SOURCE. THEY'RE GREATLY APPRECIATED.**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any characters, places, or objects mentioned in the following fanfic. All characters, places, etc., are property of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., and their respective copyrights.

**Chapter 1**

Harry Potter kneeled down to smell the fragrant pink roses lining the path in his garden. A butterfly fluttered around his head and off to another flowerbed. Harry stared blankly at the butterfly, whose bright wings clashed with a bed of white daisies, as it searched for the right flower to rest on. Perhaps his guest would find the daisies just as beautiful as the butterfly did. He looked down at his watch. A quarter to one. She'd be here in about 15 minutes.

Smiling, he crossed the garden path to the bed of white daisies and stooped, frightening the poor butterfly away. Harry drew his wand from his pocket and tapped the stems of ten different daisies. The ten flowers shuddered a bit, then popped out of the ground and landed by Harry's feet. Harry gathered them just as he heard someone approaching. The footsteps belonged to that of Ron Weasley, Harry's best friend.

"Is she here yet?" Harry asked. "If she is, then she's early. That's certainly like her."

Ron grinned, but shook his head. "No, not yet. Madam Grake told me to remind you that every thing is ready upstairs. What are you doing?"

"Excellent. I picked some daisies for the room. It might make her feel more at home."

Ron nodded his agreement. He checked his own watch and cleared his throat. "We've about 10 minutes. You reckon we could down a couple of firewhiskeys before she gets here?"

"Right, Weasley," said Harry sarcastically, rolling his eyes, "that's exactly what we need. Let's go get plastered and when Hermione gets here, she can join us. We'll have a grand old party." Harry started walking back to the house, signaling Ron to join him.

Ron laughed and gave Harry a friendly slap on the back. "That's what I like to hear. tell you what. You go put those flowers in her room, and I'll go put the kettle on instead."

Harry nodded. "Okay, then. Oh, use the Earl Grey. She'll like that."

The two friends entered through the large oak doors to Potter Manor. Ron took his coat off and slumped it over a table in the foyer, then scurried off to make tea. Harry instead jogged up the grand staircase to the second floor and down one of the many corridors to the guest room he'd set up especially for Hermione. In the room was a bed, some lamps, and a small desk and chair. The room was very plain, rather reminiscent of a cheap hotel room. There was a solitary window, overlooking the grounds of the manor.

Harry laid the daisies on the bed and grabbed an empty pencil tin from the desk. Reaching for his wand once again, Harry transfigured the tin into a lovely crystal vase. Pleased with the product, he arranged the flowers and tenderly placed the bundle into the creation. Harry smiled. He hoped Hermione would like them.

Before Harry could make it to the washroom to get a pitcher of water for the flowers, one of the maids came running to him.

"She's arrived, Master Harry! The Healer just brought her through the gates!"

Harry beamed. "Thank you, Vesta!" he called back to as he ran down the flight of stairs to landing in the hall, nearly tripping over his own feet. Ron, who had dribbled his tea all over his shirt from excitement, giddily opened the oak doors when the plump woman wearing the St. Mungo's uniform led a younger woman up the porch stairs. Harry's smiled faded momentarily as he took a look at the two women. The Healer was a very jolly woman, reminding Harry of the Fat Lady that lived in the portrait leading to Gryffindor Tower. The other, Harry could barely recognize.

The other woman was small of frame, very thin and very pale. Her chestnut eyes were glossy and sunken in, heavy with dark circles underneath indicating an immense lack of sleep. This woman's head was bowed, and revealed a messy bush of brown hair that looked like someone had attempted to make it sensible and then gave up.

It was Hermione, Harry registered, just not the Hermione he once knew.

Harry met them at the door, holding out his hand for the younger lady. The plump witch pushed his hand away. "No, no, Mr. Potter. She's not ready for that yet."

"Sorry..." Harry said sheepishly, withdrawing his hand the rest of the way. Ron ambled to Harry's side and furrowed his brows.

"What do you suppose she meant by that?" Ron asked.

Harry shook his head. "I dunno. Umm...hey, could you go pour some tea for her, mate? I need to go deal with all this procedure stuff."

Ron nodded and took the tray to the other room. The Healer witch led Hermione into the foyer, setting her down in an overstuffed chair. A very frightened Hermione looked up at the witch and whimpered, grasping her chubby arm for dear life. "Now, listen to me, Miss Granger, I'm going to need you to sit very still while I talk to Mr. Potter," she said in the tone that one would take with a three-year-old. "So if you'll just let go now...no_, let go_, Miss Granger...that's it."

Harry's heart broke as he watched the scene. He knew that Hermione's condition was bad, but he never envisioned her to be in this state. The witch patted Hermione's head and hobbled over to Harry. She smiled solemnly and opened her mouth, speaking just above a whisper.

"Alright. We have to get make some things clear to you, Mr. Potter. You know she's not right. She can't do any hard work right away. If she doesn't want to, don't make her. She sometimes talks to herself, so just let her. Do you remember I told you about the nightmares?"

Harry nodded.

"Good. They have started to get better, but she still has them, so you want to watch her. I've come to put the monitoring charms on her room so you'll know when she nee--MISS GRANGER DON'T DO THAT!"

When Harry looked over to see what was wrong, the Healer was waddling over to Hermione. She'd found her way out of her chair and was currently running her finger along the tip of a spearhead belonging to one of the suits of armor on display in the room. Hermione's eyes widened with fascination, and reached up to grasp the blade full on.

Deciding the witch would not get there fast enough, Harry quickly bolted to her side, the Healer following him close behind. Harry grabbed Hermione's arms, pinning them to her sides. She obviously didn't like this new position, for she wailed at the top of her lungs, kicking and screaming. Hermione flailed about and Harry quickly released her, unsure of what to do. The Healer caught up and pulled out her wand. Hermione sank to the floor, drawing her knees to her chest.

"You see, Mr. Potter, she's just like a child at times. She'll have her good days, just you wait." She straightened her hair and smoothed her uniform. "As I was saying, I've come to put the monitoring charms on her room. Safety precaution, of course. Afterwards, I should take my leave, but if you have any problems, I hope you won't hesitate to owl us?" Harry nodded, keeping his eyes locked on his friend. "Good. If you'll excuse me..." She headed up the grand staircase towards the room Harry prepared for his guest.

Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his uncontrollable mane of hair. Hermione had relaxed a bit by now, but continued to hold her legs to her, her body racking with sobs. Harry wanted desperately to take Hermione in his arms and hand her a tissue like he did at school. He was glad Ron wasn't here to see her like this. Between the two of them, one was bound to lose it and set her off again.

When the Healer had returned, she pulled Harry aside once more. "I've placed the charms, Mr. Potter. I'll be going now. Our staff will be sending you a checklist in the post. Good day, Mr. Potter," she bent down to Hermione, "And you'll be a good girl for him, won't you? You mind all of Mr. Potter's nice things and remember that they're not yours. You can't just chuck them about as you wish."

She stood and began to walk away, then turned back to Harry. "If I were you, sir, I'd hide all my valuables. Ta ta!"

Harry furrowed his brows and cocked his head, wondering why he'd need to put away half of his possessions. Hermione made a sound that sounded like a hiss at her retreating figure and stood as well. She shuffled weakly over to Harry and he gently touched her shoulder affectionately. She jumped and whimpered, easing away from him.

"Hermione?"

She whimpered again, folding her arms tightly, as if she were about to enfold herself in a cocoon.

"Hermione? Let me show you to your room, love."

She looked at him, her eyes examining his face. Hermione took a few baby steps toward him. Harry got the impression that she was starting to realize he wasn't going to hurt her.

Hermione opened her mouth. "…I-I won't go back?"

Harry raised an eyebrow, shaking his head. "No, 'Mione. You're not going back, you won't have to. Not now that I have you."

Hermione stood silent for a minute, then tentatively took Harry's hand and followed him up the stairs. Hermione made a sound that sounded like a hiss at her retreating figure and stood as well. The first few steps weren't so bad, but before they reached the landing Hermione decided, for reasons unknown to Harry, she would have no more of this. In his desperation to get her settled in normally, Harry had to bribe her with Chocolate Frogs, and when she still wasn't moved, a set of Gobstones and some Fizzing Whizbees.

As they approached the second floor, Harry deemed now an appropriate time to break the ice. "So, er...umm...how have you been? I haven't seen you in months!"

Hermione remained silent. "Right...well, it's wonderful to see you again, too, 'Mione." Harry muttered. He sighed heavily, deciding that maybe now wasn't such a good time. Hermione stuck her hands in the pockets of her jacket and stared at the floor.

Harry hoped that Hermione would quickly adjust to her new surroundings. She had been in St. Mungo's for the past four years for spell damage. Harry had long since tried to push the memory of that day four years ago, where the darkest and most evil of sorcerers, Lord Voldemort, attempted to take every last thing that Harry treasured.

Late in their 7th year, Death Eaters traveling incognito around Hogsmeade kidnapped Hermione, their plan to attack and kill Ron having failed. Harry searched for weeks, only the dream visions and searing pain from his scar to aid him. Once she was found, the pain and suffering that she endured had driven her insane and close to death. Her condition was not that much different from Frank and Alice Longbottom's, only that she was tortured by Voldemort himself. The rage from this situation alone was enough motivation for Harry to put an end to Lord Voldemort's reign, once and for all.

After a long and strenuous battle, Voldemort was dead. Finally gone from the wizarding world forever, cleverly slain by his own wand. Delirious and wounded himself, Harry had rushed Hermione to the hospital wing, were she was immediately taken to St. Mungo's. A few days later, Harry and Ron received an owl saying that Hermione would make a full physical recovery, but her mind would never be the same.

Through the devastation and shock, Harry and Ron would go visit her every now and then for the next four years, becoming more and more forlorn every time. The boys couldn't bear to sit in a stuffy hospital, staring silently at the young woman who barely noticed that they were there. At the end of every visit, they told Hermione they loved her and they'd be back, and as a joke they'd demand that she greet them on a unicycle balancing a fishbowl on her head next time they came. And every time, Hermione would stare out the window, not even acknowledging their departure.

Until one day, out of the blue, Harry got an owl from the hospital informing him that they'd like to try a little experiment with Hermione. Within the last 6 months of her confinement, her mind had opened and progressed magnificently, regaining most of her sanity to rejoin society. Seeing Harry as the most suitable candidate to take her in (as Rom had just moved out of the Burrow and could barely support himself), they asked him for his consent. He, of course, accepted without a second thought.

"Here we are 'Mione. Can you remember where this room is?" Harry asked, opening the door for her. Hermione ignored him, walking past and into her room. Harry blinked and followed her inside. She shuffled over to the window, running her finger along the wooden paneling. She stared for several minutes and gasped at a few things, although she was barely audible. Harry watched in silence, secretly hoping that he'd manage a few more sentences out of her by the end of the day.

After she grew tired of the window and it's view, she wandered around the room, examining every object she could pick up. Harry entered the room silently, watching intently. He thought that maybe if he watched her habits, he could find a way to break her of her silence.

Hermione was now rummaging through the drawer on the bedside table, muttering, "She took them...why'd she take them?"

Harry watched in confusion, all until Hermione started shrieking, "Where are they?! I want to know where you took them!"

Harry rushed to her side, sitting her down on the bed. "What are you talking about? Who took what?" He asked in a soothing voice, gently rubbing her shoulder.

"I needed those! She wanted them and she took them!"

Harry tentatively wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her to him. "What did they take 'Mione?"

Hermione was now shaking with sobs. Harry had dealt with a weeping Hermione before, but he always had a few comforting words for her when needed. But this time was different. He felt almost as helpless as she did at the moment, her tears soaking through his jumper, with no help to offer. Harry had no idea what the 'stolen' objects were, and he thought of how he was going to pacify the situation if this happened again. He sighed, continuing to rub her back, wondering if maybe this was still a good idea after all.


	2. A Shaky First Night

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

Second chapter ahoy! I'd like to let the readers know that I'm going to take a little break from posting anything for a week or so. I NEED SLEEP! So I'm going to write a little at time instead of staying up until 5 AM to finish a chapter...

**PLEASE REVIEW. **I'd be ever so grateful. Enjoy!

**Chapter 2:**

Hours later, Harry emerged from Hermione's room. He'd finally managed to calm her down, and she was currently sleeping. First he let her sob herself out, and when she was steadily rocking on her bed and sniffling, he eased her down to rest. At first she protested by whining and gasping, but eventually she gave up. Harry stroked her hair to calm her again, watching as she succumbed into slumber.

Exhausted, Harry dropped down into the desk chair. He was loath to leave her now, afraid she might wake up and not know where she was. Harry could only imagine the havoc that would ensue if that were the case. An hour later, after he heard her softly snoring, he quietly rose from the chair and left the room. Maybe she just needed a little alone time. Harry wasn't sure. He could empathize with her, definitely. This was a new experience for the both of them.

Remembering he'd not taken that cup of tea that Ron prepared, Harry tiptoed down the hall. As he made his way down the staircase, Ron was peeking his head out into the foyer. When he saw Harry, he strode over. "She okay?"

Harry looked up solemnly and shrugged. "I dunno, mate. It's like she doesn't even know us anymore." He bit his lip and stared at his feet. "She also mentioned...something. She said someone took them, whatever 'them' happens to be. I dunno..." He said again and ran a weary hand through his hair.

Ron nodded sadly. "Are you sure you don't want that firewhiskey?" he said, trying to lighten the air.

"Actually," Harry said, heading off to the kitchen, "I wouldn't mind it. You want one? We could play a round of Exploding Snap afterwards, just for old times' sake."

Ron grimaced at first, as he'd grown quite tired of Exploding Snap over the years. But then he realized that Harry probably needed someone around to keep his mind off Hermione. "Make it a game of chess and you've got yourself deal." He grinned and followed after Harry.

Harry grinned as well, feeling like it was the first in ages. "Chess or Exploding Snap, I'll still pound your arse into the ground, Weasley."

The friends got two bottles of firewhiskey from the cupboards in the kitchen and pulled out Harry's chessboard. They played many rounds until the contents were gone from their bottles, and then Ron announced he should be getting home. Harry clapped his friend on the back before he Apparated with a faint 'pop!'. Sighing heavily, Harry sat back down and drained the last dregs at the bottom of his bottle.

To pass the time, he bewitched the pieces Ron had used to play for themselves and set to board up again. The first game went fine, but by the middle of the second the Rooks had decided their time was better spent elsewhere and stormed off the board. Harry tried to play around their absence, but once they started leading a revolt against the pieces that remained, their Queen grew restless and dragged the King and an unfortunate Knight off the board.

Shortly after this, Harry decided it was best to go check on Hermione. He stood (just in time, as one of the renegade Rooks had charged one of Harry's Pawns and they went flying into his chair) and made his way up to her room on the second floor. He tried to go about it quietly, so he could hear any potential thumping about in her room. So far, everything was clear. When he reached the door, he knocked gingerly. "Hermione?"

He opened the door when he heard no answer and saw she was sitting in the desk chair, staring at the ceiling. "Hermione? Are you hungry?"

She looked down from the ceiling and at Harry. "What?"

"I said, are you hungry? Madame Grake is just about prepare dinner. I told her to make something special tonight, just for you."

He smiled and entered the room slowly. Hermione drew her arms to her chest and held herself around the waist. She opened her mouth to speak and hesitated before doing so. "It's...it's Saturday...the house elves are off." Hermione stood and walked over to him. "Sandwiches. Right?"

Harry was thoroughly confused. "Is that what you want for dinner? A sandwich?"

Hermione gasped and shook her head furiously. "No! No no no no no! The soup! I should have known..."

She plopped down on the bed and ruffled through a desk drawer, frantically searching for something. Harry watched uneasily. "Um...why don't you just follow me downstairs and you can have whatever you want for dinner. Eh?"

He went to her side and offered a hand. "You must be hungry. Come along, 'Mione."

After a few minutes of coaxing, Harry convinced Hermione to abandon her search and come down for food. This was not an easy task. Hermione kept trying to stray away from him and run off, but luckily Harry blocked her each time. He got the strangest feeling that she still thought that she was still in St. Mungo's, and if this were the situation, he felt very sorry for the Healers on staff.

Madame Grake had prepared a lovely ham, with potatoes and spinach, along with various other delectable looking things. She began scooping portions out onto their plates, curtsied, and dismissed herself. Harry led Hermione into a exquisite dining room, with a dozens of candles illuminating the space and, the centerpiece of the whole area, the long dining table adorned with silver and china plates. Hermione was in awe of everything and shakily ran a finger along the edge of the table.

"Is this all to your liking, 'Mione? You'll love Madame Grake's ham, it's positively heavenly. C'mere." He sat her down next to his chair and pulled one of the plated in front of her. "Here we are. Eat up!"

Harry sat down himself and began gobbling up everything on his plate. In his haste, he didn't notice that Hermione hadn't even taken a single bite of food, she just poked and prodded at it. "He's poisoned it."

"Wha?" Harry managed through a mouthful of potatoes.

"He's poisoned it." Hermione repeated. "I think..." She ripped off a small piece of ham and tasted it. "Did it taste poisoned to you?"

Harry cocked an eyebrow and swallowed. "Poisoned? Who--No, Hermione, my servant made this food. It's okay."

Hermione turned to him, her lip quivering. "Voldemort. He's poisoned the food, hasn't he?" She shuddered and pushed the food away. "He thinks he's won...well...no."

"Hermione," Harry started, "This food is not poisoned. Watch." He cut of a good chunk of meat from her plate and popped it into his mouth. Hermione watched intently as he chewed and swallowed. They sat in silence for a few minutes, giving the food just enough time to ingest before Hermione's shoulders sunk. "See?" Harry said, pushing her plate back to her. "It's perfectly fine."

Hermione sighed and nodded. "Yeah. Suppose so." He tentatively prodded at the ham before scooping it into her mouth.

The two ate quietly. After dessert (Harry had to convince her the treacle tart was just as harmless as everything else), Harry led Hermione back upstairs to her room. He filled her in about everything that had happened since school ended; He'd purchased Potter Manor, Ron had been with a nice Muggle girl he met in London, and Ginny had gone into business with Luna making robes for cheap. Harry was unsure if any of this made sense to her, but it just felt nice to be talking, actually _talking _with Hermione again. Now, if only she'd talk back...

Once they arrived at her room, Harry pulled back the bed for her. In one of the desk drawers was a few articles of clothing which Harry had received from Mr. and Mrs. Granger when they learned Hermione would be staying with him. He pulled out a thin pajama shirt and the matching bottoms. "Here we are." He tossed them to Hermione. "It looks like you'll need a wardrobe...I'll have one delivered sometime this week. Okay?"

Hermione picked up the pajamas and looked them over. She smiled, indicating that she liked them very much. They were white, with bright pink stars lined in black. She looked up to Harry, giving him the first real Hermione smile he'd received in four years. "Thank you."

His heart melt. He smiled back and strode over to her, giving her a quick peck on the forehead. "You're welcome. Good night, and sleep well." Harry left the room and sighed. Today was definitely and exhausting day. He saw that the grandfather clock in the hall was about to strike 10 o'clock, an early night for him.

Instead of retiring to the master suite, Harry walked off to his private study. He sat down at this desk and pulled out a crisp sheet of parchment and dipped his quill in ink. Before he went to bed, he was going to send an owl to St. Mungo's regarding Hermione's behavior. He had to know if this was normal for her.

He wrote a lengthy letter, mainly addressing her outbursts of missing belongings and poisoned food by Voldemort, and strapped it Hedwig's legs before sending her off. He watched his owl until she was no more than a speck along the horizon, and then went off to bed. Hopefully things would be better tomorrow.

Well after midnight, unbeknownst to Harry and the other residents of the house, a cloaked figure stood outside the house, their eyes focused on a second floor window. The figure glided across the garden, and a bony hand produced a wand from inside the cloak. With a simple spell, the door was unlocked and the figure floated inside. It came to a stop about fifteen feet in the doorway and stood, walking the rest of the way to the grand staircase.

Once it reached the second floor, the figure began to slink down the hall, almost completely invisible against the dark. It came to it's destination and stopped, and again pulled out it's wand. It flicked the wand and door creaked open slowly. The figure bounced into the air and glided inside, stopping once it reached a bed. It leaned over the sleeping woman, it's bony hands reaching up to it's hood. Slowly, very slowly, the hands lowered the hood as the woman woke up.

Hermione, the woman in the bed, gasped haltingly as she met Lord Voldemort's snakelike eyes. Her body froze, except for a hand that searched frantically for her wand. Voldemort jabbed his own wand to Hermione's throat and she stopped moving completely. The corners of his mouth pulled into a grin, and he chuckled quietly.

"It's a pity our little game has to come to an end, dear little Mudblood," he hissed. Hermione shuddered as her breathing quickened. "Especially since we've been _dying_ to see each other these long four years since you went to hospital. No matter, though. The papers will tell the world of how Harry Potter and his sick friend were murdered ... murdered by someone everyone thought they themselves killed. A bit like poetic justice, isn't it?"

Hermione was quiet, staring fearfully at her attacker.

"Not as talkative as before I see. Then I suppose you've chosen to die now rather than later. Wise choice..._Avada Kedavra!_"

A flash of green light flooded the room. Voldemort laughed evilly as Hermione screamed Harry's name.

Down the hall in the master bedroom, Harry heard a scream. He shot out of bed as he recognized it as Hermione's scream. Not even bothering to put on a dressing robe or his glasses, he grabbed his wand and shot out of the room and down to hers. Harry opened the door and rushed to Hermione, who was screaming his name at the top of lungs and writhing around painfully. Her eyes were closed and squinted, tears leaking from their corners. She emitted a sob and Harry sat next to her.

"Hermione, wake up!" He gently shook her shoulder. "'Mione, wake up, you're having a nightmare."

Hermione stopped screaming and slowly opened a watery eye and stared up at Harry. She sat up and touched his face. "Oh, Harry, he was in the room!" she cried. "He was standing over me and he said he was going to kill us!"

She threw her arms around him and wept. Harry carefully wrapped his own arms around her, soothingly rubbing her back. He didn't even have to ask who she meant; he knew at once it was Voldemort. He felt anger boiling inside of him, furious that even four years after his death, he still had power over his best friend.

"Shh, I'm here, and we're okay, Hermione. We're still alive and Voldemort's dead and gone. He can't hurt us anymore."

Hermione's body shook with sobs. "No, no, no! He was right here, I saw him! He tried to kill me, and he said he was coming for you too!"

Harry's grasp on her tightened. "It was a dream, sweetie. It wasn't real." He rubbed her back, trying to calm her down. "Listen, would it make you feel better if you slept in my room tonight?"

She sniffled. "Harry...you wouldn't let anything happen to me, would you?" She pulled away, her teary eyes connecting with his.

Shaking his head, Harry grinned to reassure her. "No, I wouldn't. You know I wouldn't."

"Yes. It'd make me feel better." She sniffled again and stood. Harry followed suit and took her hand, leading her out of the room and down the hall. The two of them entered the master bedroom and Harry guided her over to the bed. He sat her down and brought the covers around her as she stretched out, her tears finally subsiding. When she was tucked in, Harry slid in next to her and rubbed his eyes. Hermione quickly snuggled up to him, clinging to him for dear life, afraid he might be gone the next time she blinked. Harry chastely kissed her forehead and held her close, watching her until she fell asleep. It was a while before Harry himself fell asleep again. Before he nodded off into unconsciousness, he stared out his window, vowing to purge Voldemort's memory from Hermione's mind, no matter what the cost.


	3. Day Trip

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

I think I can put this no other way than: I FLAT HATED DEATHLY HALLOWS. There were only snippets of the entire thing that I liked, but nothing significant enough to put into my story. So just be aware that this is all Post-Half-Blood Prince, and that's it. I guess it kinda makes the whole thing AU, doesn't it?

Oh well. Enjoy it while you can. I start my classes in a few weeks, so it might be a while before I post again.

**REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW. Pwetty Pwease?**

**Chapter 3**

The next morning greeted Harry with an array of overly chirpy birds and an illegally bright sun. He grumbled, shifting away from the window and covered his ears with an extra pillow. This worked for a few minutes, until Hermione decided she needed the pillow more than Harry did. Before he could stop her, the pillow was over her eyes and she was snoring softly.

That was it. It was official: He'd never be able to go back to sleep now. Harry mumbled something about hoping Hermione was happy now that he was awake and fumbled around the bedside table for his glasses. Perhaps a shower would make him feel better.

Making sure Hermione was still fast asleep beneath the pillow, Harry dug inside the wardrobe for a t-shirt and jeans. A nice green one, he thought. Hermione always liked green on him. Maybe if she saw him in clothes she liked, she'd be in a better mood. Maybe she'd feel more at home with him.

Harry checked on her one more time before hurrying into the bathroom, stripping down quickly. He turned the taps and stepped in, allowing the hot water to saturate his skin. The room was becoming thick with steam, and Harry closed his eyes. He felt completely calm for the first time since Hermione arrived. If he had said that out loud, those who heard him would surely judge his position as best friend. Harry's stomach sank. He didn't want to admit, even to himself, that Hermione was quickly becoming a burden.

Harry shook his head, violently trying to rid his head of these thoughts. He couldn't believe what he was thinking. Of course Hermione wasn't a burden. He tried to put himself in her shoes, as if he were the one who was dependent on her. In his mind he saw Hermione, a book that was six inches thick on her lap, looking for the correct way to care for a 22-year-old male with spell damage. Harry could easily imagine Hermione fussing over his daily activities, seeing that his every need was met. She would be utterly, utterly devoted.

Of course, Hermione always had been devoted to him. Always there with the right answers, whether he wanted to admit it or not. Before she'd gotten sick, she was the one taking care of him, and he never really realized it. If he imagined his Hogwarts years without her, Voldemort probably would have gotten the stone from the Mirror of Erised. Or he never would have found a way to save Ginny from the basilisk. Hell, in her own way, she contributed greatly every year leading to Voldemort's defeat, and she even sacrificed her sanity so Harry could end it, once and for all.

It was clear that he needed to be that kind of friend. He owed her that much.

Once he was finished with his shower, Harry shut off the water and reached for a towel. Outside the bathroom, he could hear Hermione shifting around. He hurriedly threw his clothes and glasses on, rushing out to make sure she wasn't getting into any trouble. Luckily, she had just awoken and was sitting up in bed, yawning widely. Harry grinned at her and dried his hair with his towel. "Good morning, Hermione. Did you sleep well?"

To Harry's surprise, she smiled and popped her knuckles. "Very fine, thank you. How did you sleep?"

Harry stood somewhat flabbergasted, not wholly expecting such a Hermione-esque answer. Apparently, her nightmare was long forgotten. He returned the smile, remembering that the Healer had said she'd have her good and bad days. "Terrific, actually," Harry said, "one of the better nights I've had all month." Hermione nodded and stood. She stretched her arms toward the ceiling sighed. Harry ran a hand through his damp hair. "So, um...look, I've got some errands to attend to today, and I was wondering if you'd like to come along? We can catch some breakfast on the way, and if you like, we could stop by a bookshop or something."

Hermione was silent for a moment, twirling her hair between her fingers. She seemed to be thinking, almost in a childish way. There was an expression on her face that he wasn't sure he could decipher, and he would have told her to forget the whole thing if she hadn't finally spoken. "I think that would be really nice... I haven't been out in a long time," she said.

"Great!" Harry exclaimed, throwing his towel over his shoulder. He started towards his door and stopped, turning back to Hermione. "Oh, you should probably shower. Do you think you can manage on your own? I can have Madam Grake stand in and--"

Hermione shook her head and grinned. "Please, Harry, I'm not a child. I believe I can shower by myself," she said in her old matter-of-fact tone.

Harry nodded and clapped his hands. "Right. Right you are. Listen, you go ahead and get on that, and I'll get your clothes. There's a table just inside the bathroom; I'll put them there."

She nodded and gave Harry a little wave before heading off into his bathroom. Harry waited until he heard the water switch on before darting into Hermione's room as fast as he could. He grabbed everything he needed hastily, jeans, a shirt, shoes, and to his boyish embarrassment, her undergarments before sprinting back to his bathroom. He was glad Hermione was having a 'good' day so far, but in her condition, he didn't completely trust her on her own without any supervision whatsoever.

He cracked the door to the bathroom open, the steam from the water filling his nostrils. "Hermione? It's just me; I've got your clothes." Panic struck him momentarily when he didn't immediately hear an answer, but he then heard her chipper voice from behind the shower cubicle.

"Thank you! I'll be out in a minute!"

Harry neatly placed her things on the table by the door. "Okay, then! I think I'll have a cup of coffee downstairs before we leave!" He half-shouted over the rushing water.

Hermione gave him a brief "Okay!" and he quickly shut the door. In reality, he had no intention to go downstairs for coffee. Harry leaned against the wall, listening carefully to the sound the water running, and listening even more carefully for the sound of a thudding body or broken glass.

Minutes passed, and finally Harry heard the taps turn and the water shut off. He stood rigidly against the wall, waiting for the door to crack open. When he heard footsteps padding towards the door on the hard marble floor, Harry froze. He didn't want Hermione to know that he'd been keeping an eye on her; she might lose her cool and then the whole day would be ruined. Before she could make it out the door, Harry Apparated downstairs. "That was close," he muttered to no one in particular.

"Who are you speaking to, sir?" Madam Grake was in front of him, holding a large parcel in her arms.

"No one, Vesta. What do you have there?"

"Oh, this came from St. Mungo's this morning." Madam Grake set it on a chair and held her back, groaning painfully. "What shall I do with it, sir?"

"Er..." Harry begun. If it came from St. Mungo's, it probably had something important to do with Hermione. The last thing he wanted to do was remind her of that miserable prison she'd spent the last four years in. "Take it to the servant's quarters. Please. Oh, and make sure no one sees it."

Madam Grake nodded and heaved the parcel off to the back of the house, just as Hermione was happily trotting down the stairs. Harry smiled and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Are you ready to go?"

Hermione nodded. "Yep. Where all are we going?"

"I thought we could start off at a cafe for a bite, and then on to Diagon Alley for the errands. I've noticed that you had no robes when you came, so I thought we'd get some made. Oh, and Flourish and Blotts. Unless you'd rather stop at a Muggle shop. There's a real nice one not too far from here."

It took Hermione's slightly raised eyebrow for Harry to realize he was rambling. He chuckled nervously, nonchalantly removing his glasses for cleaning. He didn't really care that he was more excited about this outing than she was. It had been ages since two of them had spent any real time together, and he couldn't help but feel a little giddy about the whole thing.

Deciding that traveling by wizarding methods could prove to be too dangerous, Harry lead Hermione outside. Even though he lived in a rather secluded part of the English countryside, Harry still liked to keep a car for when he needed something from the small Muggle town about two miles away. He thought it might look a bit suspicious if he randomly appeared and disappeared in the Centre Square every Sunday afternoon.

The two drove into London, talking animatedly about any and everything along the way. They found a place to park, and once they were out they made their way to a quiet cafe for something to eat. The two quietly enjoyed their meal, and then set off for the Leaky Cauldron. Tom the barkeep was wiping down a table when the two entered, and the few patrons inside were all minding their own business, as usual. Harry grinned politely before guiding Hermione out back.

Before long, they were part of the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley. Harry could see the excitement on Hermione's face, for she stared into the windows of every shop and squealed. He felt terrible at the same time that it had been so long since she'd participated in society. He was close to growing impatient, but didn't have the heart to pull her away from her intrigue.

Harry thought that it might appease her interest for a short time if they went and had her robes made. He pulled an elated Hermione into Madam Malkin's, sitting her in a chair to keep her from jumping up and down. Madam Malkin pulled her up just as soon as he got her down and stood her up on a stool. Harry sat in the chair and waited patiently as Hermione was measured, stitched, and sewn.

When her robes were completed, Harry paid for them and they left for the bookshop. Flourish and Blotts wasn't very crowded today, which was in Harry's favor. He turned Hermione loose, explaining that she should meet him back at the front desk in an hour, and wandered over to the sports section. He wasn't exactly big on reading, but his copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages _had become exceptionally worn.

Before the hour was over, Harry had gathered quite a collection of books, including one over broomstick models around the world and a biography of Hamish MacFarlan. Fully aware that his interests didn't go much farther than Quidditch, Harry made his way to the queue to pay. Shortly after, Hermione joined him, cradling books of all sizes in her arms.

"What did you find, Harry? I didn't really expect you to find anything of consequence--I mean, of consequence to me!"

Harry shot her bewildered look, snorting after she clarified. "Right, because 'consequence' here has the meaning of '800 Reasons to Really Care About The Feelings of House-Elves.'"

She nudged him playfully in the ribs, all while trying to keep from dropping her books. They further conversed over their finds, and Harry hauled all the books out of the shop once they were paid for. Harry and Hermione stopped to buy owl pellets for Hedwig and at the Apothecary so Harry could restock on the necessary supplies afterwards. As they approached the archway back to the Leaky Cauldron, a withered old man at a kiosk pointed at Hermione. Harry tried to rush her past him to avoid trouble, but he wasn't quick enough.

"You! You there, girl! The end is near! That which you fear most is about to become true!" He wheezed, staggering towards them

Hermione twitched, and Harry stood between her and the man. "Listen, sir, I think you'd better be on your way. We've got somewhere to be--"

"It will do no good!" He cried, walking around Harry to look Hermione in the eyes. "You believe the Dark Lord still roams free! My child, listen to me! The Death Eaters are everywhere! They know where you are and they're coming for you!"

Harry had had enough. "Excuse me, sir, you are upsetting my friend!" He pulled out his wand and held it towards the old man. "Please don't give me reason to use this. Go back to your business before you do any real damage."

But it was too late. Hermione's eyes were wide and she was trembling vehemently. Her breathing had become shallow and her knees gave out, causing her to sink to her feet. Passersby were staring and pointing, whispering in hushed voices. Harry kneeled by Hermione and touched her shoulder. As soon as his skin brushed hers, she began sobbing and wailing, rocking back and forth on her knees. "I knew it!" She shrieked, "I knew they were all lying to me!"

Harry looked up at the crowd, shooting them all a very dirty look. "C'mon, Hermione. Let's go home and we'll sort this out."

Hermione shook her head. "He won't stop until he's killed us, Harry! When will you believe that?!" 

"Shhh..." Harry whispered, taking Hermione in his arms. "Don't cry here, 'Mione. Let me take you home. Please." Without an answer, Harry led Hermione off through the pub and to the car. He put her in, haphazardly tossing their purchases into the back before driving home.


End file.
